


caldarium

by redpaint



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Bath Sex, Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:27:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26277148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redpaint/pseuds/redpaint
Summary: “You were amazing today, so good,” Jenson whispers, because he knows Lando is listening closely. Lando is always listening for what Jenson has to say about him, even though he seems wired to demur at the first sign of a compliment.
Relationships: Jenson Button/Lando Norris
Comments: 17
Kudos: 102





	caldarium

Being a millionaire comes with perks, and one of those perks is getting to book hotel suites with large, deep tubs, the kind that will swallow you up to the neck if you let them. It’s nice to soak in quiet solitude after a long weekend of smiling to the cameras and chasing drivers around the paddock, but it’s even nicer when the fit is snug, when Lando’s body is tucked up against Jenson’s like it’s meant to be there, which all indicators would say it isn’t. Lando is broad, broader than Jenson would have given him credit for, before _this,_ displacing all sorts of water and resting his head on Jenson’s collarbone, the crests of his curls tickling the underside of Jenson’s jaw.

It’s all terribly, terribly comfortable. Lando shouldn’t be here — not only should he be celebrating and debriefing with the team, but strictly speaking Jenson thinks this counts as some sort of breach of the journalist’s code, as well as half a dozen other unspoken ethical systems. But this is as still and content as Jenson’s seen Lando all weekend, and every point their skin touches under the water feels soft as suede.

“D’you have somewhere to be after this?” Jenson asks, rubbing his thumb against the nape of Lando’s neck. He thinks he could stay here for a very long time, but that’s just the sex talking.

Lando presses back into Jenson’s touch, hums. “Nope, I get to do whatever I want. Think I might go all out, get crazy.”

“Yeah, I bet you’re a real nightmare for the bosses, aren’t you?”

Jenson knows what the adrenaline drop after a race is like. Going all out means a hamburger _with_ fries, and then sleep. The numb weariness starts in your feet and creeps its way up until it arrests all brain function and you nap on the nearest horizontal surface. Lando isn’t there yet, still a little buzzed on the relief of a good finish, but his rapid-fire jokes have slowed, and Jenson knows the clock is ticking before he’s turned into a literal body pillow.

And there’s still the issue of Lando’s cock, bobbing pink and hard against his stomach. Lando gives it a few absent-minded strokes between his commentary on the race — “They should have pitted me the lap before, if we’re being honest.” — but he seems unrushed, more interested in talking and walking his fingers down the side of Jenson’s shin than in getting off. It might be a purposeful tease, but Jenson thinks it’s more likely excess energy combined with a natural distractibility.

Jenson looks down Lando’s body, down the side of his neck and the line of his chest and the soft-shiny head of his cock that disappears into his fist a few more times now, a little more purposeful than before. Jenson shifts under the water. Lando has to feel how hard he is against his back, watching Lando pretend it’s normal to work your cock to full hardness while holding a civilized conversation.

Lando gasps a little, when it must feel better than he expected, and that’s what makes Jenson move Lando’s hand away and replace it with his own. The soft lapping of the water against his fist sounds obscene, an unwanted witness to how much he wants to get Lando off. The motion disturbs the flat placidness of the bathwater, churns it up around them, makes Lando squeeze his eyes shut and pant wetly into Jenson’s neck.

“ _Fuck_ Jense, a little faster.”

Lando’s so _responsive,_ it’s hard for Jenson to stop himself, so he doesn’t. He picks up the pace and combs the fingers of his other hand through Lando’s hair for good measure, tries not to be too pleased when Lando groans.

“You were amazing today, so good,” Jenson whispers, because he knows Lando is listening closely. Lando is always listening for what Jenson has to say about him, even though he seems wired to demur at the first sign of a compliment.

As if on cue, Lando tenses, then relaxes, like the hand on his dick is finally enough to let him hear these things, and maybe even believe them. Instead of arguing, he just kisses Jenson’s jaw and neck and grips Jenson’s thigh with one broad hand.

“How can I not be proud when I see you driving like that? The team thinks so too. You’re a natural, really.”

Lando’s breath catches a few times, like he’s about to say something, but nothing comes out. He’s pink all down his neck and chest, heat-flushed and needy. His hips are stop-starting in shuddering waves, overcompensating even here, not willing to let Jenson do all the work even when he’s spread out on Jenson’s body like a weighted blanket, bracketed in by Jenson’s arms and bath-damp knees on all sides.

Jenson ducks down to kiss at the sensitive spot behind Lando’s ear, which makes Lando twist around underneath the water — _too much, too good, too close_ — that’s right, that’s perfect. “Go on, you deserve this one. I watched you climb out of that car and thought about making you come. Just relax, let me do it, I know you’re close.”

Lando nods a few times, his fingers digging into the meat of Jenson’s thigh dangerously hard, like he doesn’t know his own strength, like he needs some point of tension or he’ll lose control entirely. Jenson feels him come before he hears it, the muscles in Lando’s back going taut all along Jenson’s front and a stream of warm come dripping down his fingers to mingle with the water.

“ _Jesus,_ ” Lando sighs, tipping his head back to look up at Jenson, starry-eyed and hazy. He’s smiling and it’s so sweet Jenson can barely gather the brain cells to kiss him. Lando hums against Jenson’s mouth, then mumbles, “I should, I’m gonna need a nap,” into the kiss, like he’s got better priorities than breathing or communicating properly.

Jenson’s cock is still hard, tucked up against the slick slide of Lando’s ass, but he doesn’t mind waiting. He’s good at waiting. He shoos Lando out of the tub and hopes he doesn’t look too fond as he watches Lando saunter out of the bathroom in one of the oversized hotel robes. Again, it’s too comfortable, even when he’s thinking about triple-header weekends to try and fight his erection. Lando seems to think so too — he’s asleep by the time Jenson gets dressed and makes it back to the bedroom.

**Author's Note:**

> no longer an anonymous shame post. it's not my fault jenson can't stop complimenting lando like that.
> 
> caldarium - the warmest room in roman baths

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * A [Restricted Work] by [WhiteWolfCraft](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteWolfCraft/pseuds/WhiteWolfCraft) Log in to view. 




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